We Might Be In This Together
by KLMeri
Summary: He knows he would never walk away from someone who has never walked away from him. Written as jim and bones challenge fic.


**Title**: We Might Be In This Together  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Pairing**: pre-Kirk/McCoy  
**Summary**: _He knows he would never walk away from someone who has never walked away from him._  
**A/N**: Written for the **jim_and_bones**' anniversary-themed fic challenge, based on this prompt by avirra: _Jim is set on celebrating an anniversary with Bones - the anniversary of the day when Bones turned around and went back for Jim_.  
Well, I went astray with this one. The original summary was going to be: Anniversaries have always sucked for Jim. Now he finally has the chance to celebrate a good one—if, that is, his best friend doesn't try to have him committed for losing his mind first. Now it's 'I have no idea what I just did!'

* * *

"_Ooooh_," Jim Kirk sings, "_you and me..._"

"Stop."

"_... we're in this together now..._"

"Stop it," comes the order again.

"_...none of them can_—ow, Bones! What was that for?"

Leonard passes Jim a bottle of beer. "I warned you, and you didn't listen."

Rubbing at the sore spot on his head, Jim eyes the proffered bottle with a moment's suspicion before he drinks from it. "You seriously have to get over your hatred of song."

"I don't hate all singing, kid, just yours."

"Is it because I can't carry a tune?"

"That's part of it, yeah."

Jim kisses the air and says, "Love you too, asshole."

Leonard sighs, slumping lower into his seat. "It's gonna be a long-ass day, isn't it?"

Jim rolls the beer bottle between his hands. "We'll make it."

"Like we have a choice."

"There is a choice. We could walk out. Right now."

Leonard stares. "Since when is walking away an option for the great Captain Kirk?"

"Bones, I'd take offense to that if I didn't know you loved me."

His friend snorts and mutters something uncomplimentary under his breath.

Jim chooses not to hear it. "So," he remarks in a casual manner, looking at their surroundings as if he isn't painfully familiar with them, "how long do you think they'll take this time?"

"Considerin' their age and propensity to flog a dead horse... I'd say they'll break for lunch and be none-the-wiser whether it's better to strip us of our command or buy a motherload of fireworks and throw a party."

Jim almost smiles.

"Stop that too."

"I'm not allowed good cheer either? In all seriousness, Bones, you have a problem."

"There's only one problem in my life and I'm looking at him."

Jim does smile, then, and props his head up on a fist. "Man, I love my job."

"You would," Leonard retorts and then, making a noise of interest, steals a handful of his friend's fries.

Jim returns his attention to his food. He picks up his tofu burger and eyes it dubiously. Leonard had assured him that he would love it. Regardless of whether he does love it or not, Jim is well aware that he won't be allowed anything else as nourishment while in the presence of his self-appointed dietician.

He really hasn't gained that much weight, has he?

Dropping a hand to pat at the slight roundness of his middle, he decides that it's just soft muscle—super-soft muscle.

"Eat the damn thing already."

"Sure thing." He crams as much of the burger into his mouth as will fit.

"Disgusting," mutters Jim's companion as he steals more fries.

Chewing as obnoxiously as he can, Jim feels satisfied and not as tense as he has been since they docked. He is confident this day will pass them by quickly after all.

* * *

Waiting never seems worth it when the results are terrible.

Jim nearly throws the data padd in his frustration. "Those bastards! I can't believe them!"

"Captain..."

He drops the device to a side table with a clatter and rakes a hand through his hair. "Don't make excuses for them, Spock."

"I would not," replies his second-in-command, "when I find their reasoning ill-conceived."

Jim looks at him. "So you're thinking what I'm thinking."

One of the Vulcan's eyebrows rises.

"We don't have to accept this," he clarifies. "We'll appeal it."

"Unfortunately that would require more time than we have allotted for this visit—unless substantive reason was found which necessitated a delay in our departure."

Jim turns away, mouth pressed thin with unhappiness, and paces toward the windowed wall of his apartment.

Spock watches him in silence briefly before remarking, "It may not be possible."

"Nothing's impossible," Jim shoots back. He quickly softens his tone. "Sorry. I'm... thinking, okay?"

"Understood. I regret that I must depart now. There are others who need to be informed of the outcome, though it was imperative that you be the first."

Jim stills in front of his bird's eye view of San Francisco and nods at the reflection of the Vulcan in the window pane. "Thank you, Commander. Dismissed."

Acknowledging the order with a slight inclination of his head, Spock then pivots on the ball of his foot and makes a quick exit.

Jim braces his knuckles against the cold glass. "Bones," he murmurs, "what can we do?"

The question is rhetorical, of course. Leonard is not there and, if the Command Council is to have their way, he won't be on the Enterprise when she leaves Earth's orbit.

That's not going to happen, Jim tells himself. Recalling the memory of the Academy shuttle bay and Leonard in his cadet reds, he knows he would never walk away from someone who has never walked away from him.

Jim swallows and abandons his place by the window to search for his comm unit. He owes it to Leonard at least to give him the news face-to-face.

It will be with personal conviction that, afterwards, he offers up a promise: the Enterprise goes nowhere without her rightful CMO.

* * *

The air smells of something savory and Jim's stomach approves. He has no attention for it, however, because he is bracing himself for McCoy's reaction.

It isn't what he expects.

"I don't know why you're surprised, kid."

"What?"

"I said..."

"I know what you said but you can't be serious, Bones. They want to ground you!"

The man shrugs with a strange disinterest. "It's been comin' for a while now, and you know it. They were hardly appeased the last time we skipped back off into space."

"The last time," Jim says, forcing himself to unclench his teeth, "you saved my life."

Leonard glances sidelong at Jim without replying.

Jim almost sticks his fingers into his hair to tug at it but suppresses the urge as he circles the kitchen table. McCoy's apartment is only half the size of Jim's but the man claims it suits him. According to his life-view, big spaces mean more potential for a mess.

Jim wishes there was some sort of mess in this immaculate home. He needs things to kick at. As it is, Leonard is watching him like he expects Jim will do something exactly that childish. At last Jim sighs, jerks a chair out from the table and drops into it.

"I told you we'll do something about it and that stands."

"Think for a minute, Jim," his friend cautions him. "Would it really be worth it?"

Jim draws back slightly. "How can you say that?"

"You'd risk your career for mine? Be practical, not fool-headed. I'd have good work to do here."

A thought occurs to Jim that he really doesn't like. "Do you want to leave the Enterprise, Bones?"

Leonard turns away from his stove to meet Jim's eyes. "If I said yes?"

_Don't say yes._

Jim waits a second before verbalizing his answer so he is certain it is controlled. "I'd need a reason. A good reason, Bones—not some bullshit like you think they made the right decision based on fair judgment when you know as well as I do the end-game is always more political than punitive."

"All the more reason for me to get the hell out of their way," insists Leonard.

Jim drums his fingers on a knee. "Then what about the rest of us? Should we just give you up, like everything you've done for us—hell, every life you've saved this year alone—doesn't matter? No," he shakes his head, "I can't do it, Bones. I won't. You're a great doctor but you're a better friend and I'd be crazy to go back into space without you."

Leonard's mouth twitches, and his gaze momentarily drops towards the floor. "All right," he says after a short silence. "I don't know why I bothered arguing with you in the first place. I knew you'd win."

Jim studies him. "Really?"

Leonard smiles. "Really. Want part of my omelette while you tell me your brilliant plan?"

Jim returns the smile with a wider one. "I thought that omelette _was_ mine."

His friend snorts, and the two men are on even ground again. After some good-natured haggling, they share Leonard's breakfast. They don't discuss what Jim is going to do because Jim himself isn't certain of what can be done.

* * *

There's a bar by the bay where no one looks at him twice despite that his face has circulated on the news feeds over the past few years. He picks a seat in a corner and rubs his thumb in little circles over the smooth cool surface of a tabletop, concentrating on the simple motion in order to gather his thoughts.

There has to be a way. There _has_ to be.

Again the memory surfaces, one that he knows changed him in a way he still cannot quite define. He sees McCoy, expression grim yet inexplicably soft around the edges just for him. It was Bones, the friend, who had latched onto his arm when Jim knew he deserved to be left behind.

His thumb suddenly halts in its mindless track.

That, Jim realizes, has been the answer to their problem all along.

* * *

"Mr. Kirk..."

"Captain," Jim corrects.

"_Captain_ Kirk." The man who leans forward on his elbows blinks somewhat owlishly at Jim from behind a pair of round spectacles, the kind few wear in the twenty-third century. "What is it that you think I can do for you?"

"You sell news—and I'm a news-maker," Jim states bluntly.

"Yes, I am aware of that fact."

Jim folds his arms, which only makes him look more determined given his wide-legged stance. "Oh? Then did you just conveniently forget my rank once I walked in?"

The man glances down at the table, adjusting the placement of his glasses with a finger while a corner of his mouth quirks. "Some of your kind prefer to be less formal when visiting my home." He looks up at Jim again. "Which, I should say, is quite rude of you. I have an office downtown."

"And I happen to have a streak of paranoia as wide as this city."

"Ah," remarks the man, who then says no more on the subject.

Jim shifts his weight a little. "Listen, I would say I need a favor but that's a lie. I need your cooperation."

"You mean my newstation."

"Something like that. In a few days many of your colleagues may hear a story which will intrigue them. They could dig around Headquarters and make a fuss but we both know Starfleet is very good at handling the press."

"I won't disagree with that statement."

"Good," Jim goes on to say, "because I'm going to give you a few facts about the Narada Incident I have shared with no one else."

The man, who has been listening with his chin in hand until then, sits up a little straighter, shucking his disinterest like a second skin. "And you want to do this before that intriguing story you mentioned reaches any mainstream news channel. All right, go on."

But Jim smiles and backs up a step. "Not yet."

"Captain, if you have something to say to the public about your experiences, I would be more than pleased to assist you."

"I don't doubt that. You look close to salivating. But there's a little matter of what you will want to do with the information and what I will need you to do with it."

"I... see. This involves some further discussion." The man comes to his feet and moves around the table to stand beside his house guest. "It is fortunate after all that you've paid me a personal visit, Captain Kirk."

Jim, still smiling, dips his head. "I knew you'd see things my way."

"Can I get you a drink?" he is asked politely. "I have a fine Scotch."

"Make it a double."

"Why not? It's been said even the most reserved of men find it comforting to confide in their bartender."

Jim laughs, the sound short and sharp. "I don't need a bartender," he reveals. "I need a champion."

* * *

It's Spock Jim expects at his door, not Uhura.

Before he can find the words to greet her, she is accusing him, "You're up to something."

In this kind of situation the wisest and most agreed-upon battle tactic is an immediate retreat. Jim is a man who has never quite given up bucking the general consensus.

He grins.

Uhura plants a hand into his chest and shoves him backwards into his own apartment. Then she proceeds to lock his front door and remove a silver ring from her left hand.

"Um," Jim says, staring at her bare fingers because he has already decided that she doesn't want to leave an identifying mark on his corpse after the strangling is done. "I'm your captain?"

"Afraid of me?" the woman questions him too sweetly.

"Abso-fucking-lutely. This is why I let you interrogate our prisoners."

"Kirk," Uhura says, placing a hand on her hip, "I heard you went to the house of a reporter."

"I may have." He eyes her curiously. "Exactly how many connections in this city do you have?"

She purses her mouth and moves past him into the apartment. Jim follows her to the kitchen and watches her open one of his cabinets and inspect the glassware he rarely uses.

"Is this about McCoy?" she asks as she takes down a glass.

"Would you hit me if I said yes?"

She casts an annoyed look at him.

"All right, all right," he concedes, lifting his hands, palms out. A second later, he drops them. "I had to do _something_. It's Bones."

She nods. "I just wanted to be certain. So... do you think your plan will work? Scratch that," Uhura amends as he opens his mouth to reply, "you always think your plans will work." Tapping one nail against the side of the glass, the woman gives him an unnerving stare. At last she sighs. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing. It's already done."

But Uhura shakes her head. "You can't leave the rest of us out of this fight, Jim. Not _this_ one. He's our family too."

"Nyota, I honestly don't have anything for you to do." He rarely calls her by her first name and never among others.

Nyota turns to the kitchen sink in silence and rinses out the glass. Jim lingers, watching her but not knowing what else to say—or what she wants to hear. He's about to apologize when she speaks again.

"Do you trust him?"

"Who?"

"The one you went to see."

"I..." Jim begins, then stops. He decides to answer honestly. "No, I don't. But I've never met a reliable media source so I guess I'm biased on that."

"Then I'll help you," Nyota replies. She takes the clean glass to the replicator and inputs what she wants. "In fact, Spock should already be at his office."

"What?"

"Spock," she enunciates carefully, like Jim's a little slower than suits her. "I told him to make a lasting impression."

Jim drags a hand down his face. "That's... that's either going to make things so much worse or so much better."

"Clearly better. You're right—you can't trust the media these days. But you can trust the son of a Vulcan ambassador who is also your friend."

Jim opts to take a seat at the counter just in case Uhura has any more surprises for him.

She brings the glass over and sets it down. "Plus, Spock wants to do something too."

Jim frowns at the drink. "Next you'll be telling me that Spock and Bones are friends. Is that milk?"

Uhura's smile almost seems wicked. "They are friends, Captain, in a take-no-prisoners kind of way—and yes it's milk. Drink it."

"I hate milk."

She pushes the glass of milk towards his hand. "_Drink it._"

He makes a face but does as she orders, then makes another face afterwards. "You're such a martinet."

"Leonard tells me I will have to be in charge of your diet from now on, so I'm testing it out." Her smile is wicked this time. "I think this will work well for us, don't you?"

"Oh god," Jim says, staring at the empty glass and feeling genuinely terrified.

"If you don't like it, then you know what to do." With that final remark, Jim's Chief Communications Officer and most frightening friend departs.

Jim drops his head into one hand and shudders.

* * *

"Bones! _Bones!_"

Jim, nearly out of breath, catches up to Leonard in the hallway of the floor of the hospital where Leonard has his office.

The doctor is frowning oddly at him. "Jim, why're you here?"

Jim spreads his fingers as if the answer is obvious. "I came to stop you!"

"From what?"

"From giving in to the Surgeon General! Bones, you can't—"

Leonard turns all the way around and the look on his face shuts Jim up.

"Say _what_ now? I'm not going to see the Surgeon General. Are you out of your mind?"

"But..." With shaky fingers, Jim takes out his comm unit and pulls up the message which had sent him barreling out of a meeting into a headlong run across campus to stop McCoy from doing something foolhardy. "Here," he says, thrusting the message at Leonard.

Leonard reads it and is taken aback. "Jim, I didn't send this." He removes a comm unit attached to the belt of his medical uniform and activates it. "Wait a minute—but how can—? I know I didn't send this!"

Jim steals the comm from him. He glances at the message that is in Leonard's outbox then bypasses it altogether, fingers moving in a flurry against the screen. Leonard is leaning over his shoulder to watch him.

"You were hacked," Jim announces a moment later. He hands the comm back to Leonard and curses. "What the hell is going on?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Why would somebody...?" The man trails off.

Jim finishes for him, "Want me to rush to Starfleet Medical?" He turns away slightly and answers with conviction. "The Surgeon General."

Despite that Leonard is shaking his head, he follows Jim's march towards the hospital elevator. "Jim, I don't think this is a good idea. He might not even be here!"

"Oh, I bet he is."

"Jim."

"Sorry, Bones," Jim says, stepping into the empty elevator.

Leonard lays his hand on the door to stall it and doesn't look happy. Then he says, "Oh hell," and joins Jim.

They exit on the executive floor to Leonard saying, "Do I even want to know what trouble you've stirred up?"

"Why do you always assume I'm the troublemaker?"

"Could've sworn that was what the T stood for in James T. Kirk."

"It's Tiberius, after my grandfather."

"Who was also Trouble. Got it."

Jim shoots his complaining friend a quick grin before they round the corner of the corridor which brings them to an elegantly decorated open floor space designated as a waiting area. Both men halt abruptly when they see a familiar figure standing close to the receptionist's desk.

"_Spock?_" they echo at the same time.

"Capt'n!" they hear in the Vulcan's stead.

Scotty appears in the periphery of Jim's vision, looking pleased. Chekov shows up alongside him.

"The Keptin is here!" he announces cheerfully.

Sulu rises from a chair some distance away and comes toward their little group. "Good work," he says, the praise directed at Chekov.

"What's going on?" Leonard wants to know, looking around at the faces, clearly disconcerted.

"We have an appointment with the Surgeon General. Glad you could make it, Jim," Sulu replies, eyes twinkling as he looks at Kirk.

"Indeed," adds Spock, who joins them, looking sharp and serious in his command uniform. "It took you less time to arrive than I anticipated."

"I ran," Jim says, "and I might have stolen a hoverboard from an undergraduate too."

Instead of disapproving of this action, Spock appears mildly intrigued.

Leonard lifts a hand. "Now hold up a second here. Go back to the part where _any_ one of you needs to have a discussion with Starfleet Medical's Surgeon General... 'cause I'm not seeing how that's a reasonable statement."

"You would not."

Leonard rounds on Spock. "Excuse me?"

"You said you do not understand our reasons, and therefore I replied—"

Jim lays a hand on Leonard's arm out of precaution and gives his Vulcan friend a subtle gesture which means 'warning, imminent disaster.' Spock meets his gaze for a moment but otherwise complies by not finishing his statement. Their repertoire of non-verbal cues isn't at its finest or broadest yet (not the way it is between Jim and Leonard) but with time Jim thinks they will have worked out a system which fits them.

"Spock," Jim says, taking a wild stab in the dark, "is there a particular reason we have to see the Surgeon General today at—" He glances at the chronometer rotating above the desk. "—fourteen-hundred-hours?"

"Yes, Captain. The Surgeon General is currently in a conference with Admiral Barnett and Admiral Cartwright."

"Ah," Jim says. Then, more emphatically, "_Ah_" when he makes the connection and realizes he should have suspected this of his own people.

Truly, Jim couldn't be more proud of them.

Leonard looks between Spock and Jim. "What am I missing?"

Jim squeezes his friend's arm before releasing him. "Not a thing, Bones. We've got this."

"Who's _we_?" the doctor questions suspiciously.

"Uh, that'd be all of us," says Scotty. He casts around for a moment, then adds, "Including Nyota. She's gone to the ladies' room, I think."

Leonard crosses his arms and plants his feet in a manner not dissimilar to the stance he takes when he is about to unleash holy hell on some poor foolish crewman.

Jim doesn't blame Chekov for instinctively shifting to a position behind Scotty. He wonders if it is too late to sidle up behind Spock, who is admirably good at withstanding one of Leonard's lectures. To his surprise, it is the Vulcan who steps in before Leonard releases fire.

"Dr. McCoy, I request only a moment of your time to converse privately."

Leonard's fierce expression falters into something less angry and more startled.

Spock unclasps his hands from behind his back and reaches out to take a gentle hold on the doctor's elbow and steer him away from the rest of the group. Jim is certain Leonard only goes along because he is utterly confused by Spock's actions.

"Phew," remarks Scotty. "Thank ye, Mr. Spock! I suppose he'll straight the doctor out."

Jim can't help but watch them, the way Leonard stands, lax, and Spock speaks to him in a low tone that won't carry. "Do you," he says somewhat slowly to the others, "...think they're friends?"

Scotty, Chekov and Sulu stare at him.

Then Pavel says, as though he can't quite understand how Jim would believe otherwise, "Aren't they?"

"Well... they fight all the time."

His Chief Engineer shrugs. "I fight with Keenser every single day—that stubborn beady-eyed nuisance—but it's difficult to imagine working without 'im. I'm not sure I'd want to."

Jim nods, despite not being fully convinced how that confession could be applied to two men who get along no better than water and oil.

Sulu nudges him with an elbow and gives him a knowing look. "Think of them as frenemies," he advises, "who would never admit the 'friend' part existed."

"How weird," Jim mutters.

"Tell me about it," agrees a new voice.

Jim turns and greets Nyota.

"Hello, Captain," she says in return. "Did you have your milk this morning?"

"Of course I did," he lies.

"Lying is a bad habit, but don't worry—I'll break you of it." Smiling, she looks in the direction of Spock and McCoy.

"Is it my imagination," Jim whispers to the other males, "or does she get scarier with each year?"

"Nyota's a fierce lady," Scotty agrees with a small grin.

"Definitely scarier, Keptin," replies Pavel.

Sulu shrugs. "She's nice to me."

Jim makes a mental note to figure out why that is later on. At the moment his attention is caught between a sudden snap of McCoy's voice which belies the onset of an argument as well as the opening of the double doors leading to the Surgeon General's office. He opts to whistle sharply at Spock and McCoy as an indirect command for a cease-fire and heads toward the group of men entering the waiting area.

"Admirals!" he calls with the charm he normally reserves for gaining the attention of a particularly attractive person.

It has the effect of making the older men eye him dubiously and with evident suspicion. "Captain Kirk," Barnett greets him.

"Shouldn't you be at Command, in the Capellan Room?" questions Cartwright.

Jim smiles. "I had another engagement, sir." Then he directs that smile at the oldest of the group and extends a hand. "You must be the Surgeon General. I believe we've only met once before."

The Surgeon General looks briefly at Jim before he fixes his gaze over Jim's shoulder. "Dr. McCoy," he remarks, "what's the meaning of this?"

Jim decides then and there he doesn't like the man. But that's not going to stop him from winning.

Whatever Leonard might have said in return is blocked out, as is the man himself, when Sulu and Chekov move in front of the doctor and effectively cut him off from the conversation. Nyota sides up next Jim and Scotty steps to his opposite side.

Her nails momentarily dance across Kirk's shoulder. "We're here to resign, Admirals, Doctor."

"WHAT?" Jim hears the screech at his back.

Oh, he does love Bones. Right now, though, he might love Uhura more.

Jim tosses out to where he thinks Spock is, "Did you bring the paperwork?"

"Affirmative, Captain."

"Excellent. Would you be so kind as to read the names of those who wish to resign?"

Spock does—and it takes a while.

Jim's delight grows tenfold. He barely manages to hide it under a brisk tone. "Well, there you have it, sirs. One hundred fifty six crew on the Enterprise, including the entire medical staff _and_ the senior command team will tender their resignation in protest of an unjust decision to remove Dr. McCoy from his position."

"This is mutiny, Kirk!" Cartwright exclaims.

"No, Admiral, this is a quite peaceable and legal protest."

"Jim!"

"Not now, Bones. The ruling body of this organization may have the right to hand down their decision and to expect it to be enforced but we are not obligated to accept it if we believe it to be wrong. And because we do not accept it, we can no longer work in Starfleet. It's all very logical, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Kirk, you—"

"Enough, Don," Barnett intervenes. "Captain, you may find this surprising but we are not intimidated."

"I don't doubt that."

"Then why do this?"

"Because you need to know what happens when you try to break up my family."

Leonard has somehow gotten past Sulu and Chekov and has caught the back of Jim's arm. "Jim," he hisses.

Jim never takes his eyes off his opponents, removes Leonard's grip and throws an arm around his friend's shoulders.

Barnett looks between them like he might be seeing something he hasn't noticed before.

Leonard cannot squirm away from Jim's tight hold. "They don't mean it," he tells Barnett.

"We do."

"I told you not to be a fool!"

"And I told you there's no way the Enterprise leaves without you—although, I might have to amend my statement now. The Enterprise can leave without you, Bones, but then it leaves without us too."

"If you're trying to bluff us, Mr. Kirk, we're better suited to the game than you are," Cartwright threatens him.

Jim just keeps smiling.

Nyota smiles alongside him. "Have you seen the news lately?" she asks them.

Chekov wants to know, "Is it interesting?"

"Very," replies Spock. "It seems Dr. McCoy is to receive a Citizenship Award for Heroism."

Leonard's head whips around towards Spock so fast that he nearly unbalances Jim in the process. "A _what?_"

"Apparently you were not given proper credit for your contribution in resolving of the Narada Incident, as determined by the Mayor of San Francisco. Congratulations," Spock remarks in a dry tone.

"The M-Mayor!" sputters Cartwright. He shares a look with Barnett which says _who told the mayor?_

"Congratulations, Bones!" Jim says, meaning it. He would also like to commend his team for whatever they did to secure the involvement of a public official but wisely keeps quiet on the matter for the time being.

"...What?" McCoy repeats weakly.

Jim resists the urge to hug him for his adorably confused expression. "I think a celebration is in order. Call up Bones' team, would you, Uhura? Scotty, where's that place you like down by the docks? Can we get a reservation?"

"Already made, Capt'n."

"Fantastic. Bones, no more gawking, please, and try to not to scare people away from your own party. Now who else should we invite?" He cuts his eyes at the three staring men. "Sorry, but I don't think it would be appropriate to invite you along since you're sidelining the career of a publically renowned hero. ...Good luck with that, by the way, and with explaining to the rest of the Federation why your best officers decided to quit and you had to re-staff your flagship."

The Surgeon General stares at them and then to Jim's surprise extends a hand. "Well played, Captain Kirk," he says.

They finally shake hands.

* * *

"Damn it, Jim," Leonard mutters into his fifth whiskey.

Jim rubs a circle on his friend's back. "I know, I know."

"You really don't."

"Yeah I do."

"You _don't._"

"His arguments are less cohesive the more inebriated he becomes."

"Thank you for that observation, Spock."

Spock blinks at him from across the table.

Uhura leans into the Vulcan's shoulder and explains, "He means he's disappointed that he can't pick a fight with a drunk man."

"Oooh," Jim says and looks at Spock with more understanding.

Spock, apparently not pleased with this revelation, makes an excuse and escapes their company.

Leonard slumps farther into his seat. "You scared off the Vulcan."

"We're sorry, Bones. Do you want us to bring him back?"

Leonard drops his head to the table with a thunk.

Nyota hides her smile behind a colorful glass filled with equally colorful liquor.

Jim decides he really has to figure out what makes up this strange friendship between Leonard and Spock. It's too interesting to pass up.

He sets aside his own glass of water and tries to haul Leonard to his feet, telling Uhura, "I think he's done for the night."

"I used to think he was a heavy drinker, especially considering how he smelled on that shuttle, but really he's a lightweight."

"Shh," Jim whispers playfully, "don't tell anyone. It embarrasses him."

They hear a whoop across the bar and see Chekov slide past on the dance floor with a gleeful, almost manic expression. Sulu follows him at a more sedate pace.

Jim winces. "I think we know who the heavy drinker is."

Nyota laughs.

"_Jim_," Leonard groans.

Jim helps the unsteady man stand up. "Gonna throw up on me?"

"Thinkin' about it."

"Excellent. Let's go this way." He mouths 'bye' to Uhura and to Scotty, too, who is approaching her from behind with an extra drink they know she likes, and tries to hurry Leonard to the restroom.

A good friend would hold his partner's head while he pukes. Jim considers himself the best of friends with Leonard since he doesn't complain when Leonard misses the trash receptacle altogether and throws up on his favorite leather jacket instead.

"Ugh," Leonard groans as he spits into the sink.

"Ugh barely covers it, Bones," Jim replies fondly.

Leonard mumbles something. Jim helps him to the floor, and they put their backs to the wall of the tiny bathroom. He thinks Leonard is going to zone out on him until Leonard asks, "Why'd you do this, Jim?"

He bends a knee and pushes his hands into his jacket pockets. "I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done."

"Why?"

Sighing through his nose, he asks, "Don't you know?"

Without opening his eyes, Leonard lifts a hand and rubs at his temple. "Don't know," he finally admits.

"Okay," Jim murmurs. Then, more firmly, "Okay." He tries to think of the best way to begin, but there is no beginning so much as there is just fact. "You saved me."

Leonard huffs out a breath and leans into Jim's shoulder. "Always do."

"I know. That's why, Bones: because you always do. You don't walk away when it's easy... or when it's too hard. You don't let me walk away, either." His mouth curves softly. "And you don't let me die." The half-smile falters. "I wish I knew how to say it properly."

"Say what?"

"Thank you."

Leonard's leg knocks into his, just lightly.

"I know I just did, but it doesn't seem like enough. Why are you so good to me, Bones?"

When Leonard doesn't answer, Jim turns his head enough to see the furrow between the man's brows. "Bones?"

Leonard swallows hard, noisily, a sound of distress.

They barely make it in time to the trash can for Leonard's next bout of vomiting.

* * *

Jim and Leonard return from the restroom leaning heavily each other and reeking of unpleasant odors. Nyota has half a mind to kick them out of the bar for sloppy drunkenness—or at least in Jim's case, for ill-handling of said drunkenness.

On her right, Scotty makes a tsking sound of disappointment. "You know, while the Doctor has a fine taste in liquor, he's got no head for it. Shame."

The woman sips at her drink. "That's why you come to me."

"Aye," beams the man. "The lads in Engineerin' are wanting a rematch."

"How foolish of them," she murmurs. "Let me check my schedule."

"And if one of us beats ye," he adds somewhat slyly, "you'll be handin' over that recipe."

"I'll think on it, Mr. Scott."

He laughs. "Are you sure you don't want to quit the 'Fleet and go into the trade, lass?"

"Bootlegging isn't my style." Even if it had been her grandfather's.

Scotty just laughs again.

She catches Spock's gaze from across the room where he is trying to salvage the dignity of their youngest crew member. The Vulcan raises an eyebrow, a silent question asking if she needs him. She shakes her head in the negative.

Jim has propped Leonard up against one of the chairs of their table and is trying to wipe at a splotch on his jacket that Nyota suspects she does not want to know the origins of.

"He looks green. Take him home," she orders.

"Getting to it," Jim replies as he throws a balled napkin onto the table.

Leonard tries to pick up a drink, and Nyota reaches out and stops him. "No, sweetums," she says, holding his wrist lightly.

Leonard frowns at her and withdraws his hand.

"Captain," she stresses, indicating McCoy.

"Martinet," she hears Kirk mutter under his breath, but the man pulls their doctor friend towards the bar's exit.

"I'd say this went well," comments Scotty.

"Better than expected, yes. Next time, however, if Kirk goes off-book, I need to know the hour of, not the day after. The plan was salvageable only because there was time to fix it, but the window of opportunity was very narrow and I don't like that."

The man looks sheepish. "Aye."

"Monty," she says, turning to look him in the eyes.

He meets the gaze steadily.

"There's still one detail left."

He nods, his expression as serious in the low lighting of the bar as her eyes are. "I don't think he'll talk, Nyota, and if he did... what would he say?"

She considers that. "It would be better if he did mention it, actually."

A startled Scotty puts down his drink and leans in with interest. "What're you thinking?"

"Let him publish the story Kirk gave him—only with the spin that their friendship has the makings of a legendary partnership."

"Hm," her companion says, contemplating this. "Where one goes, the other must follow—and together they save the galaxy? That sort of thing?" He sits back. "I like it!"

She does too, and that means it's a done deal.

* * *

The Enterprise is a week out from Earth when the article finds its way to Leonard's desk—or rather, when he has had his fill of people giving him silly little smiles and cooing over their padds when they think his back is turned.

He reads it. Then he reads it again. Then he reads it a third time.

He comms the Bridge. "McCoy here. Captain, you're needed in Sickbay."

"A little busy here, Bones."

"Jim, you missed your medical exam before departure but I cleared you anyway, which you _know_ I hate doin'. Now either you come down here or I go up there and do the physical in plain sight of your bridge crew and your First."

He hears snickering in the background.

"Geez, Bones," Jim hisses in a low voice through the speaker, "way to embarrass a man!"

"Spock!" Leonard barks the name.

Faintly an unmistakable monotone of disapproval filters through: "_Captain, if you have neglected to obtain the proper medical approval—_"

"All right, enough! On my way, Kirk out."

Leonard leans back into his chair and lifts the padd again to look over the article. Minutes later, the door to his office slides open and admits one exasperated-looking man.

"Bones, what's—"

Leonard tosses the padd on the desk, saying sharply, "What's this?"

Jim comes forward, eyes narrowing, and picks up the device. Leonard watches him read through the newsprint and his irritation changes to concern when Jim pales.

"Jim?"

Jim sits down opposite him. "That's... not what I said."

"What?"

"That's not what I said, Bones!"

"You... Wait." Leonard leans forward, bracing himself on his elbows. "Jim, I think you need to start from the beginning."

His friend makes a noise of frustration.

"Jim," he says again, putting more insistence into his tone.

"I went to talk to a reporter."

Leonard bites down on his tongue to keep his automatic response to that declaration from slipping out and lets Jim finish explaining.

"This was part of my—or all of, however you look at it, I guess—_plan_ to stop Command from making the stupidest decision in the history of Stupid Decisions."

"Okay," Leonard says slowly, "so this has something to do with them taking away my commission?" He sees Jim form a fist, then relax it.

"Yes," his friend agrees. "You know how it works with them. They spin their public image to glorify poor decision-making so I—I wanted to spin back it on them."

Leonard has to work through that for a minute. Unfortunately, he has too much experience with Jim Kirk-logic not to add things up correctly. "Jesus, Jim, that's crazy!"

Jim looks at him. "Is it, Bones?" he challenges.

For Jim it really isn't. "Okay, fine," concedes the doctor. "What else?"

"So I went to the reporter and I gave him a story about us."

Leonard pinches the bridge of his nose. "Did it occur to you that that _particular_ story might get us into more trouble rather than less?"

"Why would it?"

"I smuggled you onto the ship, for one thing."

"Hey, that was legitimate!"

"Yeah, _after_ I made you sick!"

For some reason, Jim grins like that's a good memory.

"Kid," he begins but doesn't finish, knowing it's pointless. Instead he gestures at the padd. "So how'd a story about my questionable act as a doctor end up as _that?_"

"Good question," Jim replies as he sits back and drums his fingers on the armrest. "Not that it's a bad thing, Bones. We do make a pretty spectacular team."

"Not 'galaxy-saving', not 'destined to greatness'," Leonard argues.

Jim smiles.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Bones, do you ever think about it?"

"Sometimes I think about my life on a quiet beach instead of this tin can."

"That's a sad thought, right?"

Leonard snorts.

"Seriously, do you ever think about how things could've gone if you hadn't—"

Leonard stops him right there. "No," he says firmly, "I don't. There's no point to that."

"I do," Jim tells him. "I think about it more than I should, actually. Would we have all died? The Enterprise, the Vulcans, Earth? What was it that was the turning point which stopped it all? And you know, Bones, I always come back to you when I consider that last question."

Leonard looks away. "It's a series of things, Jim, not just the actions of one man."

"But it's also the action of each man, at the right time, in the right place. Whether you want to hear this or not, you're part of a chain of events that saved billions of people. Trillions even."

"A lot of people died too."

"I know. I hate remembering that part."

"Why are we even rehashing this?"

Jim leans forward, then, letting his clasped hands hang lax between his knees. "Because the article's correct in a way. There is something to celebrate, Bones. Us. We've done some right things and some wrongs things—"

"A lot of wrong things, in my opinion."

"—but we did the right things well and learned from the wrong ones, and all because we did them together. That second part wouldn't happen without you, Bones. And I don't mean just because you keep me alive. You're the one who keeps me grounded when I want to fly too close to the sun, and afterwards... after I screw up, you forgive so I'll remember that I'm human like everybody else. I think that's a lot, Bones. More than I deserve."

"Jim, I don't know what to say."

"How about that you won't leave me to do this on my own?"

"I wouldn't."

Jim just gives him a look.

Leonard sighs. "All right, I'm sorry. It wasn't that I wanted to leave, but I had hoped if I didn't make a fuss about it, you wouldn't either."

Jim drops his head forward and huffs quietly, shaking it.

"I'm serious, Jim! There are more important battles than—"

"No," Jim shoots back, jerking his head up, "there aren't. You'll always be more important to me than anything else."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it, kid."

"I do mean it."

They stare at one another without speaking for some time.

"Well," Leonard murmurs, figuring they've both said enough to have plenty to think about, "I guess I'll forgive you this time too."

Jim raises his eyebrows. "What did I do?"

"Didn't you notice at all the way my staff has been ogling me?"

"Bones, that's because you're awesome."

"No, it's because they think we fell out of a fairy tale and they want a happily-ever-after."

"So... in this analogy are you the damsel-in-distress?"

Leonard looks at him askance.

"And I'm the knight in shining armor!" concludes Jim, enthused by this notion.

"Definitely not."

"Oh, I think I am."

"No, Jim," Leonard says, suddenly very tickled by what he is about to say. "Didn't you read that thing all the way through? I came to _your_ rescue, my confused little princess."

Jim makes the funniest noise Leonard has heard in a long time, and he bursts out laughing. He laughs so hard he starts to cry and, when Jim can't get Leonard to stop short of suffocating him, the man slinks out of his office, ears red.

Chapel pops her head into the doorway, wanting to know, "What did you do to the Captain?"

Leonard wipes at his eyes. "Nothing much, just told him the truth."

"I see," the nurse remarks. "...But he'll come back?"

Leonard shakes his head and can't help smiling as he tells her, "Yes, he will. He always does."

_-Fini_


End file.
